


Argos

by Mason17



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternative universe- role reversals, Argos Lexa, Commander Clarke Griffin, F/F, F/M, Role Reversal, canonish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mason17/pseuds/Mason17
Summary: Role reversal AUAfter Clarke’s ascension to Commander she begins on a different path than all of the Commander’s before her. One of peace. As this journey takes her to each Clan, meeting with the Ambassadors to discuss treaties, rumors spread like wildfire about the incoming raids and abductions of the people whom live beyond the clans, beyond the Commander’s rule. Is it all a myth, or is there truth behind these wise tales





	1. Myth

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping in to check this out! I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for sometime and finally put it on paper. 
> 
> When I talk about the territory beyond the commanders control I am referencing this map. -  
> http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/thehundred/images/1/19/The_100_land.png/revision/latest?cb=20160401163327
> 
>  
> 
> For some background- as this is a role reversal assume Clarke has experienced many of the same things Lexa did while Commander. There are obvious differences and the 100 or Arkadia don’t exist in this world.
> 
>  
> 
> The mountain still fell, Clarke, Bellamy, Raven and Octavia responsible- and Clarke still earns the name Wanheda from this event, although you will not see anyone from the 12 clans outright use this title directly to Clarke. 
> 
> This may seem a little all over the place but I’d love to answer any questions if anything is unclear! Please leave a comment below!

Clarke ran her fingers along the armrest of the large wooden chair, listening to the man across from her, as Titus and Octavia remained standing just behind. 

 

“Heda how can we agree to this alliance when we will be sending more than half of our harvest to Boudalankru than we are receiving?” The Plains Rider leader spoke, standing his ground as Octavia scoffed at her side. 

 

“Are you not in need of their goods Theon? Saddles, armor, belts, boots- other cloth and leather goods? Did I not see some of your warriors dressed and tattered clothing? Walking with almost no armor?” Clarke challenged, knowing the answer. 

 

“Sha Heda, we are in need of assistance in those areas however I believe..” Theon attempted to continue before stopping at the motion of Clarke’s hand as Titus also stepped forward, bristling at the edges, as the man before her once again challenging her. With Clarke’s hand raised she remained seated calmly silencing both. 

 

“You will not be left to starve Theon. As a part of the Coalition your people will be provided with what they need. If you experience famine the clans will provide you with enough food and supplies, as would you for another clan. That is how the Coalition works, we have to unite, and compromise to succeed.” Clarke finished. 

 

“With all due respect Heda, you have to understand my hesitancy.” Theon countered. 

 

“I do.” Clarke confirmed, pausing before continuing. 

 

“Do you think each clan has not had their own reservations? Every clan but Ingranronakru has agreed. Each clan will receive something from another, whether it be training for your warriors, goods for trade,or portions of harvest. All benefit. And if you agree maybe the Clans will experience a season without rebellion, without bloodshed.” Clarke concluded as she continued to observe the man and the elders that surrounded him. 

Theon was a tall, thin man, lean with muscle, youthful in his appearance. He had come to lead the Plain Riders, after his father, Thune, disappeared a little over a year ago. 

Thune had set out on a hunting trip, however after a week passed, with still no sign of his return, search parties were sent for him. No remains were ever recovered, just his bow. No arrows or quiver. Rumors had spread like wild fire after. Spanning from Thune killed after an animal attack, to being taken hostage by those that live beyond the known clans boarder. The Argos they called them. 

 

Growing up there had always been whispers of people living beyond the clans. Those that rebelled, leaving the capital after Primheda rose to power. By many the Argos were simply a story told by the elders, passed from generation to generation, nothing more than a wise tale to scare the children at night into staying in their homes, to not wonder off. 

 

In the recent years, these stories began to resurface, as the clans bordering this unknown territory told tales of raids on crops and livestock, children being taken from villages as the savages wandered closer to the capital. 

 

Clarke had immediately dismissed this idea, chalking it up to the Ice Queen’s games and threats. But as Clarke continued to learn, the tales of the Argos were strong as ever the farther she traveled from Polis. 

 

“I will consider your offer on one condition.” Theon began, pausing as Octavia stepped forward. 

“This is not a negotiation Theon. Either you accept or you don’t. Become apart of the Coalition- an Ambassador for your people. Or become an enemy.” Octavia snarled through clenched teeth, hand placed over her sword. 

 

Theon gazed warily at Octavia before glancing back to Clarke. Straightening in his chair. 

 

“You and I both know the Coalition will not succeed unless Ingranronakru agrees. We harvest crops throughout all four seasons. We have enough grains in our stocks to feed our warriors for the next three cycles of the sun. My warriors may not have the finest armor, but they have food in their bellies, enough strength to fight throughout the cold months, when others have no food.” Theon continued looking directly at Clarke as Octavia flew across the table grabbing Theon by the scruff of his shirt, standing nose to nose, before slamming him down on the table. 

 

“Em pleni” Clarke commanded, her voice steady. Cold blue eyes bore into Theon’s brown ones, giving a silent warning. 

 

Octavia pulled Theon back into a standing position, giving a slight shove letting him go, before turning on her heel, exiting the room. Theon wiping the small trail of blood that ran from his nose. 

“The raids are getting closer together Heda, more people are going missing every month. The Argos are real Heda. Find out what happened to my father. Give me answers on his disappearance, and I will join your Coalition, I will become the Ambassador for Ingranronakru.”

 

•••

 

“Heda I beg you, do not set on this journey. Send the others. Do not accompany them.” Titus said, pacing the room while Clarke moved through the room gathering different items, placing them in her pack. 

 

“You and I both know I have to travel with them Titus. Theon specifically requested that I go and search for his father. He is right, we need Ingranronakru to join the Coalition. If they don’t the others will back out, we will once again return to war.” Clarke said, looking up from her pack, closing it tightly. 

 

“Heda, you do not need to go on some fools errand. What if the other Leaders asked you to chase a ghost?” Titus stopped pacing, standing in front of Clarke. 

 

“I am lucky they did not. If we are asking the clans to do something different, to trust each other, it has to be known that they can trust me. That I will also do things differently. If there is an unknown enemy beyond our boarders than I must explore this. I do not have a choice in this matter, you know this. As agreed upon we will travel for five days on horseback, once we find nothing we will return. I will see you in ten days Titus.” Clarke said, walking past Titus, out of the tent. 

 

•••

Clarke shifted slightly in her saddle, glancing at the small group once more. They had been traveling for almost four straight days, only stopping to rest when the horses began protesting. 

To be honest Clarke had been looking forward to this journey, none of the previous Commanders had traveled beyond the known territory, and ultimately Clarke needed a small break. 

The negotiations had been even more agonizing than the actual wars and rebellions that broke out once Clarke ascended to lead her people. The clans were hardened from decades or war and blood shed. Clarke had been the first to break this pattern, suggesting peace, that the clans unit, developing a new set of laws, treaties to begin trade between the clans. 

 

Many had outright refused in the beginning, until a particularly devastating battle with the Mountain Men killed almost the entire Trikru Clan, resulting in Clarke, and the same group of warriors she was with today, infiltrated the Mountain, defeating them from the inside out. 

 

Clarke had heard the whispers, calling her Wanheda, the Commander of Death. Some had even chanted it after Clarke killed the Ice Queen, after she challenged Clarke to Sologonply electing her son Roan to fight in her place. 

Clarke had defeated Roan, and as she watched the blood pour from his nose, down his cheeks, she could hear the screams of his mother. Berating him to stand up, die with honor. 

 

This was when Clarke realized that Roan had always been just another pawn in Nia’s game, he haven’t ever been a real threat to Clarke or the clans. It had been just Nia all along. In a split second decision Clarke had launched the spear at Roan’s throat, sending it into the chest of his mother. Killing her enemy and gaining a new ally. 

 

Since Roan’s rise to the Ambassador for Azgeda, many of the other clans fell into place, agreeing to the terms of the Coalition. Roan had quickly became a close ally, accompanying her in many meeting with the clans, proposing new laws, treaties and ultimately unity. 

 

Clarke looked up at the blue sky overhead, taking a deep breath, as the fresh air filled her lungs. 

 

Clarke glanced at Octavia, then to Raven, whom at this point was constantly shifting in her own saddle, straightening and bending her leg every couple of minutes. Clarke could see that the woman was in pain, she knew Raven would never ask to stop or take a break. 

 

Clarke could see the restlessness rumble through the rest of the group, giving Octavia a small nod. A silent agreement to stop, set up camp for the night as they entered the small clearing in the forest. 

The lands they had entered on their third day were dense with large trees, deep valleys and rivers slowing their progress, making their journey painstakingly slow. Raven had traveled with the group, constantly pulling out the leather journal she carried. Drawing different trees and other plant species they encountered, along with a rough map of the trajectory they were traveling in. 

Raven had been shot during the war against the mountain, suffering nerve damage in her left leg, often causing her to walk with a limp which infuriated Raven to no end. Raven and Bellamy had infiltrated the Mountain undetected, making it all the way to the control room, shutting off all power allowing Clarke, Octavia and Wells into the bunker. During the mass pandemonium, a bullet aimed at  
Clarke struck Raven in her lower back nearly killing her. Clarke had carried Raven out of the Mountain on her own back, but the healers were never able to correct the damage, only removing fragments of the bullet. 

 

 

Clarke could hear the loud rumble of yet another river close to them, internally sighing as this would mean another day of searching for a spot where the horses could cross to continue moving forward. 

 

Clarke slowed her horse to a stop, turning to speak to her warriors. 

“We will stop here for the night. Set up camp, all of the tents. We may need to stay here for several nights.” Clarke said as she swung her leg off of her horse, landing on the ground, reaching for her supplies and tent laying it on the ground moving to assist Raven. 

 

Once the camp was partially erect Clarke grabbed her bow, slinging it over her should along with her quiver. 

“I’ll be going hunting this time, I’d actually like to eat tonight.” Clarke smirked as she passed Octavia, who all but rolled her eyes. Taking one last glance at Bellamy, Octavia’s brother, and Wells who continued to help Raven set up camp. 

Octavia was her best warrior, hell her best archer. She could take down a hawk in mid flight if Clarke had asked her to. But today Clarke needed to get away, stretch her legs and feel the thrill of hunting, feel the rush of adrenaline through her veins. 

 

Clarke had taken Octavia on as one of her personal guards, shortly after the conclave. The two becoming close friends, meeting in Polis when Clarke became of age and was sent to train with the rest of the nightbloods. Octavia was the daughter of the blacksmith who forged the Commander’s army’s weapons. The young girl was constantly thrown out of the training pits, negging to train while Raven stayed close to Octavia’s father becoming his apprentice as soon as she was old enough. Both girl had earned Clarke’s attention after Octavia disarmed one of the guards in a matter of seconds, stealing his dagger, and slipping back into the crowds of the city to bring to Raven to meltdown into a larger sword. Clarke had found Octavia later that night, and offered to continue to train with her, honing both girls skills into hardened warriors. 

 

—- 

 

The forest was beautiful, dense and thick, clearly untouched from any sort of civilization for decades. Most of the inhabited land that remained was, except for the trails and roads put into place for travel and trade, winding the way through the forest, leading to the settlements littering the country side. 

 

But out here, there were only small game trails, carved into the forest as the different animals created their own road systems. 

Clarke effortlessly moved through these small trails, ducking, shifting past trees and branches, moving faster towards the sound of the river. Sweat beading at Clarke’s hairline, the small of her back. The farther south the group traveled the hotter it seemed to be. Vast hills and mountains sprinting up, with large dense valleys between. 

 

Clarke had rid herself of the Commanders armor before setting up camp, leaving her in a faded blue tunic and black riding pants and boots. She still wore the Commanders mask, the paint dripping from her eyes, as she pushed forward. 

As the sound of the river became clearer, the rocks and banks from the valley floor came into view. This river was not at the bottom of a great valley, rather a large wide opening where the river tumbled through, water spilling onto the banks and rocks, slowing in some places, racing in others. 

 

Clarke’s boots came into contact with the rocks, freeing her from the dense trees and brush. Clarke smiled slightly, heading for the river, desperately needing to drink, and to wash the ink from her face, when movement to her left caught her eye, stopping her dead in her tracks. 

 

It was a woman, her back facing Clarke. Fishing pole stuck in the dirt next to her as she knelt down to pulled the line up, a small trout thrashing at the end. The woman was tall, taller than her by several inches, and lean. Even from thirty feet away, Clarke could see the muscles in her arms and back ripple with each movement. Her long dark hair cascading down her back, held in place with braids, blue cloth woven in some places with beads dangling in others. The woman wore what she would describe as a tan chest binding, with similarly colored thin pants rolled up jet ankles. 

 

A gasp to her right pulled Clarke, jerking her head towards the sound. It was a young boy, not much older than five or six, standing much closer to her. A small wooden bowl filled with what appeared to be worms and small crayfish in his hands. The boy was dresses similarly, with no shirt, tan thin pants that were rolled up to his calves. The boys dirty blonde hair tossled and wet, dripping after a likely swim. 

The noise of the boy dropping the bowl, startling both as the sound of the wooden bowl clanged against the rocks. The boy remained frozen in his spot, wide shocked eyes scanning Clarke before darting in the direction of the woman as Clarke did the same. 

 

The woman was now facing her, standing closer, but still several feet back compared to the boy. The woman’s eyes were wide, shock evident on her face as her eyes continued sweeping over Clarke’s form, remaining on the bow across her shoulders. Her gaze hardening. 

 

“I mean no harm” Clarke said quietly, raising her hands slightly, attempting to convey she was not a threat. However the words appeared to startle the woman, her eyes widening further, her mouth opening, then shutting quickly as she took a slight step towards Clarke. 

 

As Clarke moved to kneel, grabbing the bow slowly, to place it on the ground she felt a sharp pain in the back of her left shoulder, following the explosion of pain near her clavicle. The woman’s eyes widening again, shouting.

“Aden stási!”

Clarke’s brows furrowed, unable to understand the the woman’s words. 

 

Clarke looked down at her chest as she felt her knees wobble sending her to the ground. Watching as her blue tunic turned black, the silver tip of the dagger in glaring contrast, still burred in her shoulder, exiting near her collarbone. She looked to her right, the terrified boy, stumbling back. 

 

“Είναι μία από αυτές !” The boy shouted, lunging forward to withdraw the blade. 

 

Instinctively Clarke reached for the boy, grasping his arm, as blood continued to pour out of the open wound. The trail of black now pouring down the length of her shirt, droplets landing on the stones below. 

 

The boy screamed, retching himself back, only for Clarke to hold on tighter. Until she felt the power of a strike to the back of her head, sending her face down into the stones. 

Time seemed to slow as she rolled onto her side, the boys arm still clenched in her fist. Looking up at the crystal blue sky, until her vision blurry, as she felt another sharp pain this time to the side of her head- eyes rolling in the back of her head, succumbing to the darkness.


	2. Confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa get to know each other a little bit more. They play the game of push and pull, getting more information about one another. But of the two who really is hiding the secret?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of those that left kudos, bookmarks and the comment! I appreciate it!! 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter once again is about story building, trying to give you as much relevant information about the history, structure of the clans and how these two play apart in this world. 
> 
> Again if there are any questions or something isn’t clear please comment and I will try my best to clarify!

Clarke’s eyes snapped open at the sound of raised voices. Instinctively turning her head to the sound attempting to move, realizing her hands were bound above her head to the bedpost. 

 

“Giatí tin éferes edó?” The voice spoke louder this time. 

 

Clarke could see two women standing outside talking through the doorway of the room she was being held in. It was a small room, or house rather. Built in stone with what appeared to be a hay roof. The windows opened, allowing the slight breeze to travel through. 

 

Clarke recognized one of the women to be the woman from the river. Her broad back now covered in a thin tan long sleeve tunic accompanied by the same thin pants she wore from the river. Her hair was braided in the same intricate pattern. Some braids ended with colorful beads, while other had bright blue cloth woven in through the braid, resting on her back. 

 

The woman remained utterly still, while the other woman paced back and forth, sending her glares. 

 

 

Clarke pulled the ropes again, this time much harder, hearing the ropes and wooden post groaned in protest, as she jerked her elbows towards her waist. Earning a blinding sharp pain radiating from the back of her shoulder around to the front of her chest near her collarbone. She felt dizzy, clammy, feeling her heart racing, her hair sticking to her neck and face. 

 

 

Clarke glanced down realizing she no longer was wearing her tunic, replaced by a thin tan tank top. Leaving the wound accessible, but covered with some sort of gauze, as a thin steady line of black ran from the bandage down, accompanied by a thin sheen of sweat. 

 

“Den tha boroúsa na tin afíso se Anya, xéreis aftó.” The woman responded calmly. 

 

Clarke glanced back to the women. Observing the interaction. The woman from the river was clearly a leader, or at least someone highly respected. Her composure evident as the other woman ranted angrily in front of her was something that could only come from years of practice, years of being comfortable in conflict. 

 

 

“Xéreis ti eínai Lexa. Xéreis poios eínai  
pithanós.” The frustrated woman said in an exasperated voice. Almost pleading. Motioning to the room where Clarke was being held. Causing the woman to turn around glancing back. Both visibly stiffening seeing cold blue eyes staring back at them. 

 

 

The woman from the river was first to enter the room, closely followed by the second. Clarke gaze remained locked on the woman. She was tall, muscular but lean. The shirt she was wearing loose around her midriff, tight around her shoulders and arms, as is hugged the muscle. She watched as the woman observed her, green eyes doing a quick sweep of her body, eyes landing on her chest as the wound continued to leak. The woman’s eyes quickly snapped to her hands where they remained bound above her head. Slightly relaxing finding her secure. 

 

“Why are you here?” The woman spoke in Trigedasleng, slightly catching Clarke off guard, remaining motionless on the bed, staring at the woman in defiance. The woman’s trigedasleng was seamless, no hint of an accent as the words easily rolled off her tongue. 

 

“I know you understand me. You spoke to me in Trigedasleng at the river. Answer me.” She continued in a harsher tone at Clarke’s silence. 

 

“How do you know trigedasleng?” Clarke countered. Cold blue eyes boring into green. 

 

The brunette was silent for a moment, clearly contemplating her response. 

 

“I’ll tell you if you can tell me why the Commander has entered my lands.” The woman said, a slight smirk reaching her lips, at the brief look of shock flashing through Clarke’s eyes. 

 

The woman walked over to the table across from the bed where Clarke lay against the wall, sitting in the chair. Simply waiting for Clarke’s response. 

 

“And what lands are these? Until this morning I thought you and your people were a myth.” Clarke challenged once again. 

 

“And here I thought Wanheda was the myth.” The woman outright smirked this time, watching the blaze of anger flare through Clarke’s eyes as she instinctively pulled at the ropes that bound her hands once more. 

 

The woman remained silent, observing the minuscule bust of emotion, sinking further in the chair, brining her bare feet up in the chair sitting crossed legged. Enjoying the dance they played trying to get the upper hand. 

 

“Do you get your information from those that you take from my clans.” Clarke recovered, watching as the woman’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

 

“Take?” She questioned. “We have never taken anyone.” 

 

 

“I don’t remember coming here willingly.” Clarke countered. Eyes darting to the woman standing near the doorway, her sharp eyes glaring at Clarke as she grumbled something. Causing the brunette to shoot her a glare. 

 

“You were injured. I brought you here to see my healer.” She replied simply. “Is that why you’re here? You think we’re taking your people?” 

 

“What else would you have me believe? Raiding small villages, capturing members from hunting parties? Most would consider that an act of war.” Clarke countered. 

 

The woman near the doorway stiffened further. Her posture going rigid as she clenched her fists, her jaw, eyes darting to the woman in the chair, whom sat motionless, face emotionless. 

 

“You are mistaken Heda” The woman began, this time using yet a third title, one she knew would be more intimate, one that showed respect. 

 

“We have never raided your villages, or taken your people. It is on a rare occasion that you’re people have come to these lands, some wandering West, some seeking asylum from the violence they’ve endured for years within the rebellions of the clans. Most are fearful of their leaders, some fearful of the Commander.... until recently.” She paused. 

 

“We have heard stories of a new Commander, one that hopes to unite the clans. To bring peace.” The woman stopped briefly, eyes returning to the black trail of mostly dried blood now, looking down Clarke’s chest as she continued to pant. 

“I can only hope that is true..” She finished, standing, motioning to the woman in the corner. 

 

“I’ll have Anya get our Healer-Nyko.” She tilted her head towards the door signaling Anya to leave, who complied, sending a glare Clarke’s way as she turned on her foot leaving the room. 

 

“I have matters I have to attend to... as I assume you came looking for someone... who is it? If they are here I will ask them to see you.” The woman finished, coming to stand next to the bedside, looking down at Clarke. 

 

Clarke continued to stare up at the woman. Her gaze unwavering as the woman watched her curiously. If this was true, that her people had fled to these lands it would explain the woman’s vast knowledge of the clans dynamics, along with who she was, how to identify her. But it could also mean that these people were taking her people, interrogating them for information. Both possible options. If the woman had Thune, he had been kept for over a year, likely turned-giving up all information if he was alive. But she wouldn’t know until she spoke with him. 

“Thune.” Clarke finally responded as the woman turned to walk out of the room once more with nothing other than a quick nod before closing the door. 

 

•••

 

Clarke could hear rustling outside, the sound of a struggle. Like something was being dragged towards the door of the small home she was being kept in. 

 

“Den to thélo!” A small voice yelled. 

 

Clarke pulled on the ropes once more, attempting to break free, as the pain shot through her shoulder again, she could feel the blood begin to pour once more. 

 

“Aden xérete ti eípe Lexa. Na stamatísei.” A gruff voice responded, as the door opened. A large man opened the door, practically carrying a small boy- the boy from the river, at his side. The boy stared at her with a terrified expression, his eyes wide and panicked. He remained rigid at the mans side, looking ready to bolt. 

 

“This is Aden, my apprentice.” The man introduced the young boy, letting go of his arm, only after giving him a very pointed look to stay still. 

 

The boy, Aden remained close to the man, wide eyes staring at Clarke. He looked a little young to be an apprentice Clarke thought, he couldn’t be more than five or six years old. Maybe they started training their young very early on. 

 

The man cleared his throat, staring at the boy bringing Clarke out of her thoughts, her eyes jumping to him then the boy. Who remained looking up at the man before slightly stepping forward, eyes trained on the floor, now refusing to look at Clarke. 

 

“Lypámai pou se machaírosa” Aden spoke quietly. Even if Clarke could have understood the boys words she wasn’t sure she would have been able to hear him clearly. 

 

“He said he’s sorry he hurt you. He doesn’t speak trigedasleng. Most of our people don’t, if you need to talk to him address me.” The large man responded, continuing without awaiting Clarke’s response. 

 

“My name is Nyko, I am one of the healers for this village.” He said moving forward to look at the gauze placed over her wound. Clarkes eyes remained trained in the man. She felt her body tense as he reached forward moving the gauze. 

 

“Looks like you’ve torn some of your stitches. I’ll have to take some of them out and restitch the wound.” He said turning to the boy motioning outside as the boy practically ran out of the room, quickly returning with a large wooden bowl filling with medical supplies, at a much slower rate. His eyes watching Clarke warily. 

 

He quickly set the bowl down next to Nyko and retreated back closer to the door.

“You lost quiet a bit of blood, you may have a fever. I will also make a tea that should help with infection.”

 

Clarke remained tense on the bed, unmoving as she watched the man grab a small sack filled with a liquid, pouring it over the stitches. Pain erupted through Clarke’s shoulder once more, she clenched her teeth as she felt the liquid seep further into her shoulder. 

 

 

“This will help keep it clean, unfortunately it won’t numb the area. You’ll feel this.” He continued as he picked up a small knife, moving to cut several of the stitches before pulling them free, grabbing the small needle and thread to restitch the area. 

 

“If many of your people don’t speak  
trigedasleng, how is it that you speak it so well?” Clarke asked, briefly startling the man, as he clearly was expecting to finish his work in silence. 

 

 

He looked at Clarke briefly before answering. His face impassive, while his eyes held a look of kindness. The laugh lines around his eyes and face showing signs of a happy life.

 

“My father and mother brought me here from Flokru when I was a young boy. My older brother had gone fishing with our village leaders son, his only child. The boat capsized, and his son drowned. He killed my brother in retaliation, and threatened to kill both me and my mother. They planned to take me to Boudalan, but word had traveled- he places a bounty on all of our heads.” The man continued as he effortlessly thread through her skin,  
Clarke grinding her teeth. 

 

 

“We traveled West after that, my father heard rumors of these lands..... the Argos. But it had never been more than a myth, after walking for close to a week one of the leaders from the village found us and brought us here. We were starving, dehydrated, they were kind to us, gave us food and water, a place to stay, even though it could have put the entire village in danger. They let us stay because they knew we would have been killed if we returned.”

 

Clarke watched the mans face as he continued to tell the story, his eyes distant, reliving the moment. 

 

“There are a few others like me, who came here when they were young, either by accident or seeking asylum. Some of the elders speak Trigedasleng, but it’s not something we teach. The people here speak a language that was long dead before the old world fell. Kato we call it.” He concluded, as he tied off the last stitch, placing gauze over the wound. Reaching down picking up a small wooden bowl. 

 

 

So the woman from the river was born within the clans. She spoke Trigedasleng perfectly, it’s not something she was taught. Something you could only learn by growing up speaking the language. 

 

“Maintaining peace is never easy Heda.” He began, sitting back in his chair, his arms resting on his knees, holding the bowl. 

 

“These people... my people... we’ve worked hard to keep the peace. Our children grow up with no fear of war or rebellion. They grow up learning different skills and trades. It’s a peaceful life, a simple life.” He pauses slightly before continuing. 

 

“It doesn’t mean we are weak, that we won’t fight to keep it that way. Lexa is kind... she is a good leader, a strong warrior. She didn’t have to bring you here. She understands your position more than you know. Don’t try and take this away from us Heda.... get well and return to your people.” 

 

Lexa... that must be the woman from the river Clarke thought, putting together the pieces. 

 

Nyko stood, holding the bowl in his hands, placing some green herbs in the liquid. Crushing them with a stone. 

 

“Drink this tea, it will help flight the infection.” He said as he moved the bowl towards Clarke’s mouth. 

 

When Clarke made no movement to drink from the bowl, the man sighed slightly, almost rolling his eyes as he brought the bowl to his lips taking a small sip. 

 

“I have no interest in poisoning you Heda.” Nyko said in a slightly amused tone. 

 

When he moved the tea back to her lips she took a small sip, quickly realizing how thirsty she was. Taking several large gulps, finishing the contents. 

 

•••

 

The next time Clarke awoke it was dark. The sound of steady rain hitting the roof, thunder rumbling in the distance. She glanced to the door, left open, shivering as the wind blew the rain into the structure. 

 

Clarke tensed at a particularly loud clap of lighting followed by the rumble of thunder. Her should was still incredibly sore, but feeling slightly better, feeling like her fever was gone. She groaned attempting to readjust. Her arms were on fire from being tied above her head. 

 

She heard what sounded like rushed footsteps, sloshing through the mud, as the woman from the river, Lexa, ran into the room with an even larger man carrying a plate of food. 

 

Once fully in the room the woman closed the door, turning to close the windows. Her clothes soaked through, clinging to her body, her hair stuck to her back and her clothing continue to drip on the floor. 

 

“Sorry about that” The woman spoke. “The storm caught me by surprise while I was getting food.” She said as she took the plate from the man, whom remained standing by the door, eyes trained on Clarke. 

 

She set the plate on the table. Moving to a small chest in the corner, opening it and placing clothing on top. She recognized her blue tunic folded among the clothes she set on the table. 

 

The woman was soaked from the rain, droplets littering the floor as she moved. Her thin tan shirt and pants becoming transparent exposing her toned stomach and arms, while her chest binding remained covering her modestly. Without a though the woman discarded her long sleeve shirt, exposing her back to Clarke, and a large tattoo, trailing from the woman’s neck to the base of her spine. The straight and jagged lines accompanied by different size spheres trailed from her neck, hidden beneath her chest binding then reappearing on her lower back. 

 

Clarke quickly diverted her eyes as the woman turned around, pulling on a new long sleeve shirt, sitting in the chair as she did earlier in the day, brining her feet up sitting crossed legged in the chair. 

 

“I brought you some food... I can imagine that you’re hungry, it’s been two days since you’ve eaten.” She said slowly, providing Clarke with this information. 

 

She must have slept the entire first day she was here. She had woken up this morning... it was the same day right? She tried to remember, piecing the timeline together. 

 

“You were unconscious for almost a day when I brought you here, you would drink some, but you haven’t eaten.” Lexa responded. 

 

“This is Gustus.” She continued pointing to the man. 

 

“I would like to try and trust you... I’d like to untie you so you can eat your food. But Gustus isn’t feeling so optimistic. I can promise you, if you try anything, you won’t even make it off of the bed.” She informed as Gustus moved closer to the bed, withdrawing a blade, as his lip curled into a growl giving Clarke’s silent warning. 

 

Clarke nodded in understanding. 

 

“Don’t make me regret this Commander.” She finished, standing up, taking the blade from the man. Placing the plate of food on the bed near Clarke’s feet. As she leaned over Clarke to cut the rope, droplets of water fell from her damp hair, trickling across Clarke’s face and chest. 

 

In one swift motion the ropes were cut, the woman was backing away immediately, knife remaining in her hand, watching Clarke intently. 

 

“You have nothing to fear from me tonight Lexa.” Clarke responded, calmly. Bringing her arms down slowly to rest at her sides, her muscles finally relaxing. She took a moment before sitting up, reaching for the plate of food, glancing at Lexa as the woman outright smiled at the use of her name. 

 

 

“Just tonight?” She questioned with a smile. 

 

 

“That is to be determined.” Clarke responded simply, not unkindly, just stating a fact. Lexa nodded, knowing both women were testing the waters, a silent power struggle. 

 

 

Clarke picked up the piece of bread, taking a small bite. The plate was filled with fresh fruit and vegetables and a small piece of chicken. 

 

Lexa was quiet, almost curiously watching Clarke as she ate and stretched her arms over her head. Wincing as the stitches in her chest pulled once more. 

 

“Why did you come to these lands?” Clarke asked. Lexa clearly spoke Trigedasleng well, from what Nyko told her, only children that were originally from the Clans spoke Trigedasleng. 

 

“Much like you, I didn’t come here willingly. My sister and brother brought me here when I was 16.” 

 

Interesting, Clarke thought. So being here wasn’t her choice, but yet somehow she’s become the leader for these people. 

 

The brunette wasn’t much older than her, a couple of years at the most. Clarke thought back to when she was that age. At 16 she had just risen through the conclave, becoming the Commander. She had been taken to Polis at 4 after her parents were no longer able to hide the fact that she was a nightblood. She was one of the youngest at that time, and the flemkapa allowed her parents to visit several times a month. Her parents decided to move to Polis, after that. Her mother working with the healers while her father worked with the blacksmiths and builders, building and restoring the homes and structures within Polis. 

 

Clarke remembers the first day her mother came to visit her alone. She was 9. Her mothers eyes blood shot and exhausted. Telling Clarke that her father had been killed while in the forest cutting lumber. In that moment Clarke’s entire world had changed. Shaped her into the woman she was today. 

 

Even throughout her training with the nightbloods her father had encouraged and fostered her ability to remain a child, encouraged her to play, to hold on to the sliver of innocence she had. But after he was gone, her mother slowly stopped coming to visit her, until one day she never came back. Clarke could remember that visit, like the first. 

 

 

Her mother’s eyes were once again blood shot, but on this day it was for a different reason. Track marks lined her arms as she dozed in and out of consciousness, her eyes distant, vacant. 

 

It wasn’t until years later, after she became the Commander that Titus told her that her mother had died that night from an overdose that she realized her mother had been high the last time she saw her. There had been many nights were Clarke feared her mother was captured by the Mountain Men, turned into a Ripa, being the only explanation for her behavior and then disappearance. 

 

“Why were you alone at the river?” Lexa asked, startling Clarke out of her thoughts. “I have to assume the Commander doesn’t travel alone, but yet you were, at the river.” 

 

“My army will not attack your village in the middle of the night, if that’s what your asking.” Clarke replied, as she continued to eat. 

 

“Mmm..” Lexa made the noncommittal sound. “Some in my village believe you were hoping to be captured. Without anyone knowing your true identity, getting to know the village before attacking.” 

 

Clarke was quiet again for a moment. That would indeed have been a great plan, except for the fact that Clarke hadn’t believed these people even existed two days ago. 

 

“Then I guess you really will have to trust me Lexa.” She replied this time with a small smirk of her own. 

 

Green eyes remained locked on blue, twinkling with something. Was it amusement? Mischief? Or just someone clearly enjoying the banter between them. 

 

The woman gave her a small smile before turning towards the door, handing Gustus the knife. 

 

“I guess I will, Clarke.” Lexa three over her shoulder, this time, leaving Clarke speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! feedback would be appreciated!


	3. Speculation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!! I once again as always apologize for the delay! No excuses, life just gets in the way sometimes. 
> 
>  
> 
> For this chapter keep in mind: this is a role reversal so we will see Clarke struggle with interpersonal relationships and trust just as Lexa did in the show. Years of conditioning as a Natblida, then as the Commander has made her cold, sometimes angry- she won’t be able to understand what she would consider a betrayal against her people. So she is trying to figure all of this out, even though she can see Lexa is being kind to her, trying to get her to open up. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always leave any questions or comments below! 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

Clarke stared up at the hay roof, unable to sleep, her mind racing. She laid motionless listening to the steady rain outside. Her fever was back, she felt clammy, her hair sticking to the back of her neck and forehead. The pain in her shoulder throbbing with each beat of her heart. 

 

She had never been one to sleep long consecutive hours, a couple of hours here and there throughout the night. Her mind always plagued with one worry or another, the pain and fever were definitely it helping tonight. 

 

But this was different. Uncharted. 

 

 

For one she was being held prisoner, at least it felt so, she was once again was tied to the bed. The large man, Gustus, securing her to the bed once more before he left to stand guard outside the home all night. 

 

Clarke didn’t know what to make of these people.... The Argos. Until three days ago she had been convinced these people were a myth, nothing more than a story to tell around the campfire. 

 

But now? What would she do? She’s already been missing for three days, Octavia and the rest of the group that came with her, had to be looking for her at the least. The likelihood that the group was in route to notify Titus and the clans was high. If Titus and the clans had already been alerted, chaos likely ensuing. She wondered how long they would look for her until the conclave began. Or would Titus send an army to look for her. She knew Lexa had been half joking when she suggested it, but the longer she was missing, the greater this was a possibility. 

 

Even if Clarke returned to the clans tomorrow, what would she tell them? How would she explain her stab wound. How would she explain her absence? Would she tell that the Argos were real? From what she could tell the village was completely self sufficient, growing their own crops. Whether they had their own army that was unclear, but the group was clearly able to defend themselves, having weapons available. 

 

If the clans knew of this village would they attack even if they were commanded not to. Clarke knew the culture within the clans was to attack and irradiate anything that’s foreign or unknown, and the Argos were apparently the definition of that. 

 

As the sun began to rise, streams of light beginning to peak through the closed wooden windows, birds chirping in the distance. Clarke could hear the early morning commotion of the village coming to life. Occasional Clarke could hear the voices of those passing by. The giggle of children, running, beginning to play. On several occasions she even thought to hear a bark from a dog. 

 

Heavy footsteps approached the door, pausing as Clarke hears another set of sets arrive. The door opened revealing Nyko, the village healer in the door way, giving Clarke a small smile entering the room. A large wooden bowl, filled with medical supplies in his hands. 

 

Clarke looked past Nyko to find a stunned Thune standing in the door way, the shock evident on his face. Thune took several steps back, looking from Nyko to Clarke, his mouth opening and closing several times. While Nyko looked back, almost amused. 

 

“Heda....” Thune started, stepping slightly back into the room. 

 

“I apologize, when Lexa asked me to meet with someone from the clans whom they had found hurt.... I did not expect to see you Heda.”

 

“The feeling is mutual, when your son asked me to come and look for you, I did not expect find you, let alone this village.” Clarke responded coolly. 

 

“I..... i...” Thune stuttered

 

Nyko then looked between Clarke and Thune, this time skeptically, hearing the angered tone in Clarke’s voice as he moved placing the wooden bowl on the table, taking a seat. 

 

 

“Tell me how you came to this village Thune.” Clarke silenced him, cold blue eyes boring into his brown ones. 

 

 

“Heda please, do not punish Theon, he had no way of knowing I was planning to leave. I told no one.....” Thune stumbles over his words once more, becoming more panicked. 

 

“Answer me Thune” Clarke interrupted the man again, angry clear in her voice. 

 

“I came here on my own free will..... I was a coward, But I left on my own accord. No one knew. I take responsibility for that.” Thune answered, shakily, bowing his head as he came closer to Clarke. 

 

“Why?” Clarke growled 

“I was hunting the first time I saw someone from this village, 6 years ago. At first I thought I stumbled upon a fellow hunter from Ingranronakru. She was dressing a recent kill. Once I got closer, I could tell she wasn’t from the clans, her clothing didn’t look familiar, the tattoos, the way she carried herself, she didn’t speak Trigedasleng.” Thune paused glancing at Nyko. 

 

“She was terrified of me, and initially I couldn’t understand why. She was so fearful she took off into the forest without the deer. Once I returned to our village I spoke with some of the elders, they shared wise tales and horror stories of those they called the Argos. About how violent and savage they were. But I could never stop thinking about how terrified the woman was of me.” Thune paused, emphasizing. 

 

“After that I went back to the same area, searching for her, for anyone else. It wasn’t until two years later I saw her again. She was still scared of me, but this time a little more curious. We learned how to communicate, I was able to teach her Trigedasleng. Her teaching me Kato. But more importantly- she taught me kindness, patients, and ultimately.... love.” 

 

He paused once more, looking up from the ground to Clarke. Her face remaining impassive, staring at the man. 

 

“Theon’s mother died in child birth, I had been alone since. I was angry, bitter. I saw a different world through her eyes... and I wanted to be apart of it. I was just.... just sick of fighting.” He continued shaking his head, eyes returning to the floor. “We received word that the Ice Queen had been killed by your hand, that you were creating a new way for our people, to unite the clans. Several leaders from other clans came to me and asked to join a rebellion against you, to separate the clans further. I refused and they threatened to kill me. So I made my disappearance look like a death, like I had been killed while hunting. I never thought Theon would come looking for me, let alone send the Commander to do so.” 

 

 

Clarke’s anger boiled over as she pulled at her bindings. 

 

“You’re a coward Thune. You left your position as leader, and left all of the responsibility on your son, with no warning because you were to scared to keep fighting..” Clarke growled, as Thune took a step back at Clarke’s outburst. 

 

“You abandoned your people Thune. The clans have united. We are forming new alliances, trade routes and agreements. We are working towards peace, towards a better life. One you will never see. You are banished from the Clans Thune, and if you ever show your face in the Plains again, I’ll kill you myself.” 

 

 

Thune continued to hang his head, ashamed, refusing to meet Clarke’s eye, as she seethed on the bed. 

 

“I have to tend to Heda’s wound Thune. Go, I’ll find you later” Nyko spoke, startling both. 

 

Clarke stared at his back as he turned to leave. 

 

•••

 

Clarke walked through the village, her hands bound in front of her, closely followed by two guards- Lincoln and Gustus. She felt groggy, the tea Nyko gave her earlier in the morning for her fever, knocking her out for most of the day. 

 

The village was still full of life, even as the sun began to set. Men and women returning to the village, some carrying different crops and grains, while others carried baskets filled with fish, others carrying recent kills of deer and boar. 

 

Clarke watched those passing by as they began taking a detour, some even walking off of the dirt path they were on, distancing themselves from Clarke. She recognized the look in their eyes, one of fear, watching her carefully, like she was a wild animal, ferrel and ready to attack. 

 

Clarke glanced at the men standing on either side of her. Neither had a look of fear, something she had also noted in Nyko, and Lexa. They watched her cautiously, sometimes even aggressively. Those born in the clans did not fear her. Most had actually been kind to her, other than Gustus who was consistently hostile. She couldn’t blame him really. If someone from this village they would have been treated worse, likely killed before they even made it into Polis. 

 

They continued towards the edge of the village, following the dirt path as it wound through trees, becoming thicker more dense the farther they entered the forest, until they came to a large clearing. A river cutting through the clearing. This river was much much larger, but calmer, than the one Clarke had originally stumbled upon, but the scene before her was similar. 

 

Lexa stood in the river, several feet from the edge, absolutely still. The water flowing up to her knees, saturating the thin tan pants she wore, while her top was discarded, revealing her chest bindings. As Clarke and the guards continued into the clearing she noticed the spear in her hands, and the small boy from the river standing directly in front of her. His hands also on the spear, his eyes leaving the river every so often to peer up at the woman, whose eyes remained trained on the water. 

 

In a swift violent motion Lexa drove the spear into the water, smiling as she withdrew, a fish thrashing at the end. Aden looked up at Lexa beaming, clearly celebrating, as he talked animatedly in front of her. Lexa pried the fish from the point, leaning down, giving the fish to the boy, whose expression immediately turned serious as he gripped the fish and began to head towards the shore. 

 

As the pair looked up, Aden stopped dead in his tracks, back peddling to turn to look at Lexa who sent him to the shore with a single look. 

 

Clarke felt Gustus move closer to her, gripping her arm roughly the closer the group came to the river, until she was forced to sit on a near by boulder. Both Lincoln and Gustus coming to stand on either side of her. 

 

Clarke looked across the clearing, noticing several others, close to where Clarke was sitting but further from the shore. A group of people were standing on the edges of what appeared to be a small training ring. Some were sitting on long logs placed on the edges for seating while others stood closer to the ring, different training weapons in their hands, observing two others sparring in the ring. 

 

The woman in the ring she recognized as the woman who was arguing with Lexa the first time she woke up after being brought into the village. The woman was dressed similarly, her chest only covered by the bindings, while she wore thin dark blue pants, rolled up on her calves, a staff in her hand. 

 

The woman’s movements were fluid like water, moving and directing her opponents strikes away from her body. She made no attempt to strike the younger opponent. Fighting of his attacks, as he increased his speed, becoming desperate, sloppy, until she stepped forward slightly, knocking the boys staff out of his hands, kicking his feet out from under him as he landed in a huff on the grass. 

 

The boy laid on the ground with a huff, his pride suffering the brunt of his fall, before sitting up to look at the woman, his gaze meeting hers as he ducked his head in shame. 

 

“Do you miss it?” Came from Clarke’s left. Her head turning towards the voice, recognizing it as Lexa’s. 

 

Miss what? Training? Fighting? Teaching? She thought as the options cycled through her head, simply staring at Lexa. 

 

“Training, sparing with the Natblida’s?” 

 

The confirmation to Lexa’s question was unsettling. She didn’t just say training, she was specific in her answer- training with the Natblida’s. The amount of information Lexa knew about life within the Clans, the Commanders responsibilities, was alarming. But what was the most unsettling was how much she seemed to know about her. How she thought. How she pushed her just enough to get the information she needed, and then she would back off. How she knew her name. How she called her by name. 

 

Very few even dared to mutter Clarke’s name. Even those within her close circle addressing her as Heda or Commander. Only Raven, Octavia, Titus on occasion calling her by name in the confines of the Commanders quarters. 

 

Clarke sighed. She was tired, groggy from the tea Nyko gave her to ease her fever. But it wasn’t just the grogginess from the tea, she was just tired. Tired of the games, tired of being on edge. Tired of being angry. 

 

Lexa seemed to notice minuscule changes in Clarke’s posture and mood. How her shoulders slumped forward slightly. Her gaze changed from piercing to almost vacant as she stared through Lexa. 

 

“It’s one of my favorite things to do, to train with the kids here.” Lexa spoke once again. She was now standing directly in front of her, she made a motion with her head as Lincoln began to walk towards the small group further into the clearing, while Gustus moved to sit on a log several yards behind Clarke. Aden returning to the river, playing in the water. 

 

“They are so eager and willing to learn, their excitement can be contagious.” Lexa smiled softly while moving to sit cross legged in front of her. 

 

Clarke studied her sitting in front of her in the grass. Lexa was clearly trying to engage with her. Her pants still dripping from the river, the muscles in her arms, shoulders and stomach fluttering as she sat down. The woman looked as if she was sculpted from the gods themselves to be a warrior. She was solid muscle, long and lean. She was at least several inches taller than Clarke if not more. She looked like a leader, even as she sat in front of her, twirling a small blade of grass through her fingers. 

 

“Did you live in Polis? Before you came here?” Clarke asked, watching the woman’s face as she questioned. She knew Lexa knew exactly what she was doing. Trying to gain information on how she knew so much about her, about the Commanders. 

 

“No...” Lexa answered with a small smile. “I grew up on a small farm in Trikru territory. But stories of the Commanders travelled throughout the Clans. I used to day dream of being trained and sparing with the Commander as a child.” 

 

Clarke felt her lip twitch into a small smirk before she could stop it, as if to silently offering to spare with Lexa now. 

 

But Lexa didn’t take the bait, once again reading Clarke effortlessly, rolling her eyes slightly, clearly not threatened in the moment. 

 

“So how does an outsider to this village come to be their leader?” Clarke asked. 

 

“I was elected Archon by the people, leadership within our village is different than within the Clans. I would say I’m more of a mediator for the village, than the leader.” Lexa explained, watching Clarke as she pushed herself farther back on the rock, mirroring Lexa’s positions, crossing her legs, laying her hands bound together in front of her. 

 

“Archon?” Clarke questioned, the unfamiliar syllables rolling off of her tongue. 

 

Lexa nodded, offering a small smile. 

 

“What do you mean elected?” Clarke questioned. She wasn’t familiar with the term, but the implication vastly different than how she gained power. 

 

“Everyone in the village casts a vote. Whoever has the most votes is elected Archon.” 

 

“Mmm” Clarke made a noncommittal sound. She didn’t necessarily understand the process, but ultimately that’s not what she wanted to know. “You seem to know a lot about the Commanders... how is that if you’ve been here for what, almost 15 years?”

 

“I ..... visited Polis once, to speak to the Commander at the time. I actually watched you train with the other Natblida’s before you became the Commander.” Lexa said matter of factly, causing the hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck rise. Her posture instantly going rigid, blue eyes trained on green. 

 

Clarke’s body was on fire as the spark of adrenaline ran through her body. Very few were allowed to watch the Natblida’s train, even some of the other warriors within the Commanders army were restricted. For Lexa not only to be invited to meet with the Commander, but to be allowed to observe the training session meant she held or knew someone that held a significant amount of power. 

 

Clarke knew Lexa was smarter than to let information like that slip, that Clarke would pick up this information. But why? Why would she tell her this. If Lexa noticed the change in Clarke’s demeanor, she didn’t show it. Clarke could feel the wave of aggression flood through her veins, struggling to keep her emotions at bay. She was tired. Tired of the games, the power struggle. 

 

“And what would the Commander want with a farmers daughter?” Clarke asked, her tone sharp. 

 

Lexa paused, contemplating her response when the woman, who was sparing with the boy, approached staff in hand, glaring at Clarke the entire time. Clarke simply stared back, her gaze unwavering, challenging. 

 

“Anya- this is The Commander.” Lexa tilted her head towards Clarke, then back to Anya. “And this is my sister, Anya.” 

 

 

When neither woman broke the stare down, Lexa sighed loudly, looking up to Anya as she stood up, glaring at her. 

“Stamáta.” Lexa spoke, who only received an eye roll from Anya. 

 

“Prépei na páme. tha eínai sýntoma skoteinó” Anya spoke. Her tone cold. 

 

“Unfortunately we will have to continue our discussion at a different time.” Lexa said, looking towards the river, calling for Aden. Who came running over, slowing as he approached. Finally darting to Lexa’s side, wrapping his arms around her leg. Lexa looked down at the boy, running her fingers through his wild blonde hair. 

 

Clarke couldn’t help but wonder how this boy was related to Lexa. He certainly didn’t resemble her, but maybe his features favored his father. Or maybe he wasn’t Lexa’s at all, but someone she had been close with. 

 

Clarke watched as the boy wiggled under Lexa’s touch, giggling. He looked up at her, pulling out a small grey smooth stone, laying it in his palm to show her. 

 

“Tha thélate na to dósete ston Clarke?”  
Lexa asked Aden, glancing at Clarke as she watched the scene in front of her curiously. 

 

Aden shook his head yes, attempting to give the stone to Lexa, who shook her head no, urging him forward slightly. Clarke glanced at Anya as she stepped forward with Aden, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the staff harder. 

 

Clarke’s gaze shifted to the boy in front of her, warily stepping forward. His arm extended, the rock in his small hands. For a brief moment Clarke was confused, then realizing he was trying to give her the stone. She extended her hands, still bound in front of her, accepting the stone. Failing to hide the small smile bloom across her lips. 

 

“We call it a pétra.... or a worry stone. It is a great honor to receive one, often passed down from generation to generation. It is said that each stone holds the wisdom of those that held it before you.” Lexa explained. “To be given a new one means that your gifter believes you have the answers already within yourself.... that sometimes you just need to be reminded.” 

 

Clarke felt her smile widening, looking down at Aden as he looked nervously between her and Lexa. 

 

“How do you say thank you?” Clarke asked. 

 

“Ef-charistó” Lexa said first phonetically then “efcharistó” saying it quicker. 

 

“Ef- chari-sto” Clarke attempted, mostly successful, directing this to Aden. Who was beaming, as he returned to Lexa’s side. This time holding her hand, tugging her back towards village. 

 

“Get some rest, we will talk more tomorrow.” Lexa offered as she walked by Clarke, moving to scoop Aden up and over her shoulders, pretending to stumble as she jogged down the path. Aden squealing and laughing as the disappeared into the forest. 

•••

 

Much later that night Clarke laid on the bed, once again hands tied to the bedpost above her head, staring at the roof. The days events racing through her mind. 

 

She couldn’t piece together how Lexa was connected to the previous Commander, how Lexa knew so much about her, and why her siblings brought her to this place. Clarke could assume that Lexa had to be running from something, something she didn’t necessarily want to run from- saying she was also brought here unwillingly. 

 

As Clarke continued to run through different scenarios in her mind, she heard rushed footsteps outside of her door, followed by a dull thud- within seconds the door opening slowly, revealing Octavia as she peaked her head through- pulling Raven in behind her, who landed with a huff on the floor. Octavia flying to the bed where Clarke remained tied. 

 

“Clarke” Octavia quietly greeted, the relief clear in her tone. 

 

“Octavia! Raven! How did you find me? Are the others with you? Did anyone see you come into the village?” Clarke questioned rapidly as Octavia cut the ropes binding her hands, helping her sit up. 

 

“We have been searching for you for days, it wasn’t until they brought you to the river today that I was able to see where they were keeping you, and follow you back.” Octavia whispered in reply. 

“It’s just me and Raven, Bellamy and Wells went back to alert Titus that you were taken.” Octavia continued. 

 

“I can’t wait for that, I told you so” Raven chimed in, still sitting on the floor, shooting Clarke a playful smile. “I tranqued the huge guy outside, we should get him in here before anyone sees him.” Raven continued. Prompting Clarke to stand, opening the door to find Gustus slumped into a seated position against the house. Clarke motioned for Octavia to help her, grabbing one of his arms near his shoulder, pulling to drag him back into the room. The pair dragged him to the far corner, taking the ropes that had previously been around Clarke’s hands, wrapping around his, securing him to the bed. 

 

“I used two darts.... I think he should be out for a while.” Raven said, standing near the door while Clarke sat down on the bed attempting to gather her thoughts, Octavia standing in between. 

 

From the bed Clarke heard the movement of the door handle, everything happening in a matter of seconds, time seemed to slow. She watched as the door opened, Lexa standing the the doorway her eyes wide with shock, quickly turning cold as Ravens fist connected near her left temple, splitting the skin. Lexa caught Raven’s left hand by her forearm as Raven attempted to hit her again, using her weight to flip Raven to the ground- stepping on her throat as she grabbed Octavia slamming her against the wall, a blade at her throat. 

 

Clarke watched as Raven’s thrashing on the floor stopped, her head turned to the side looking at the floor, then up to Lexa’s face. Octavia began to struggle, then instantly stilled, eyes wide with shock, bordering on horror as she gripped Lexa’s forearms. 

 

“Lexa” Clarke said quietly, almost pleading, as she stood from the bed. 

 

It wasn’t until Lexa turned to face her that she understood both girls reaction. 

 

Blood covered the side of Lexa’s face, dripping from the cut above her eyebrow down her face, onto her tan tunic, and the floor. 

 

Black blood. 

 

Even in the dim room Clarke could easily see the color, black. Black as night as the thick blood poured out of the cut. 

 

Lexa was a Natblida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Sorry for any mistakes! 
> 
> “Prépei na páme. tha eínai sýntoma skoteinó” - it’s going to be dark soon, we need to head back. 
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and kudos much appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment and kudos below! 
> 
> Translations- 
> 
>  
> 
> “Aden stási!” - Aden stop!
> 
>  
> 
> “Είναι μία από αυτές!” - Shes one of them!


End file.
